Editorials

I work hard at developing wrinkles and gray hair.
It’s a by-product of my favorite hobby — worrying.
With a tumultuous year coming to a close and (if we can rely on the accuracy of the Mayan calendar) perhaps the world as we know it in 2012, there’s a lot to bite our nails over.
Should the world end in either fire or ice in 2012, I can at least check off a few 2011 happenings here at home and around the world from my worrywart agenda.

Wish in one hand, spit in the other because in the end it generally amounts to the same thing.
I shall nevertheless toss out some some wishes for the new year, minus all the “whirled peas” pablum that generally makes these kind of columns remarkably boring.
Instead, I’ll focus on things that could actually happen here.

Editor’s note: The following was written by Francis P. Church and was first published in The New York Sun in 1897. Church married shortly after the editorial appeared. He died in April 1906, leaving no children. Virginia O’Hanlon went on to graduate from Hunter College with a Bachelor of Arts degree at age 21. Virginia O’Hanlon Douglas died on May 13, 1971, at the age of 81, in a nursing home in Valatie, N.Y.

Someday, I’m going to be famous.
Probably not for my own merits or intellect.
Lord knows that those things would get me nowhere.
I’ll be famous for as long as it takes to watch a video, repeat a headline or blink an eye.
After all, that’s as long as most important issues remain in the American consciousness.

Usually, I ask the questions.
This time, however, I thought I’d attempt to answer objectively some of the questions that came up during the historic district commission public hearing Dec. 6.
After speaking with members of the commission, as well as with representatives from the Bardstown historic district and the Kentucky Heritage Council, these are the answers I received:

Column as I see ’em …
Tony Soprano’s psychiatrist once told the sob-sister mobster that Christmas, for some, is more aptly named “Stress-mas.”
His shrink was apparently correct because it appears people will do nearly anything to make sure they have presents under the tree.
Check out this week’s front page story about a lady who searched all summer to find just the right baby Jesus doll for the manger in her front yard only to have it stolen.

To be a journalist is like being on fire.
Extinguish one flame — deadlines, disgruntled readers or writer’s block — and more start to smolder in its place.
I’ve toured a prison and endured its pat-down policy, been essentially banned from a senior center, and had my student newspaper pulled from the racks for publishing a story about an Ecstasy drug bust on campus.
So it’s nice to remind myself sometimes why I voluntarily chose this profession.
All it took was another newspaper.

Column as I see ’em …
Now that he has been comfortably re-elected, perhaps Gov. Beshear will take a moment and throw a rope around those in his health cabinet who can’t seem to keep their meddling noses out of Anderson County’s business.
Our 12-person health board, which consists of the county’s CEO and members with more degrees than a thermometer is perfectly capable (these days, at least) of making decisions without interference from state health officials.

I’m an expert in attending meetings.
And you should be, too.
Contrary to common knowledge, things happen at those public meetings.
I know that’s a pretty big shock. You might want to sit down for a moment.
Money exchanges hands, new policies and ordinances up for review and passage.
I should know. I write about them.

Column as I see ’em …
Somerset, home of the Southwestern football team Anderson spanked so badly Friday night to advance to the state finals, is apparently home to a few rather sore losers.
It was bad enough that one of Southwestern’s assistant coaches had to be booted out for mouthing off to a referee, but he really went over the top when he apparently flipped the bird to Anderson fans while leaving the field.
Who does he think he is? Jets coach Rex Ryan?